


summer nights

by dicaeopolis



Series: SASO 2017 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grease, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate Universe - Pink Ladies, Beaches, M/M, Summer Lovin'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 05:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11411604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/pseuds/dicaeopolis
Summary: “And you both justwent back homeafterwards?”Hanamaki’s eyebrows are climbing up on his forehead. Oikawa sniffs and hoists his messenger bag further up his shoulder. “We knew all along that it was just a summer thing. Personally, I’ve moved on.”“Really?” Matsukawa chimes in. “Cause he’s all you’ve talked about all morning.”





	summer nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helwolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helwolves/gifts).



> ANOTHER SASO FILL. all these r quick and totally unbeta'ed so bear with me
> 
> some liberties taken with the plot of Grease and the schedule of the Japanese school system

“And you both just  _ went back home _ afterwards?”

Bokuto is gaping at Kuroo like a worried fish. Kuroo slings an arm around his friend’s shoulders and squeezes briefly. “Don’t worry about it, bro. Some summer flings are just summer flings, you know? It gets colder, you go back to school, you never think about Oikawa Tooru again…”

Bokuto leans into Kuroo’s hug, though his ponderous eyebrows are still furrowed. “But how can you be sure it wasn’t  _ true love?” _

“The moony look in his eyes would suggest so,” Akaashi observes, dry as ever.

There’s still a few minutes left before the first bell, so the four of them are lounging around Akaashi’s sleek black Thunderbird in the school parking lot. Summer changes some things. Bokuto, boggled that he’s managed to lose yet another leather jacket, has bought a new one that’s straining over his shoulders. Akaashi has a new jacket, too - this one suspiciously baggy and worn, and they refuse to say where they got it, though Kuroo isn’t saying a word. Kenma, who is perched on the hood of the T-bird with PSP in their hands, has come back to school with a quiet request fror they/them pronouns and a pretty floral skirt swishing around their legs under their own leather jacket. For his own part, Kuroo is tanned browner, grown a little taller - the summer at the beach did its work.

But Akaashi’s white v-neck is still low enough to keep Bokuto chasing after them all year, and their T-bird is just as shitty as ever. Kenma will still spend their slow afternoons underneath the thing, getting grease on their cheeks and skirts. Kuroo’s still wearing the same battered old leather jacket, and Oikawa Tooru will soon fade into nothing but a fond memory of warm sand, stars over the ocean, the heat of a touch on a summer night.

“I do wonder what he’s doing now,” Kuroo allows. The first bell rings from within the school building, and Kenma slides off the hood of the T-bird. Bokuto falls into step with them, and Kuroo and Akaashi follow the pair of them through the lot. “Like, I know he was from Miyagi, but he mentioned his dad travels a lot, so he could be anywhere come fall. He didn’t say if he knew yet, though… He was gorgeous, you know. And smart as hell. Even smarter than me, probably.”

“Right,” says Akaashi. “You’re clearly not at all obtuse.”

Kuroo frowns at them. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kenma mutters over their shoulder, directing their words at Akaashi. “He’ll get over himself.”

“Bokuto’s the only one here who says nice things to me,” Kuroo sighs. He moves up to link arms with Bokuto, who pats his elbow and tells him,

“Your hair looks like a dead thing sometimes.”

_ “Hey.” _

* * *

_ “You’re going to get so much sand in this thing,” was the first thing Oikawa said when he slid into the passenger seat of Kuroo’s Corvette. “Salt in the engine, too. From the air.” _

_ Kuroo grinned at him, a little feral. Who could blame him, after all - the last traces of purple-red sunset had faded into the waves, and there was salt on the breeze and sun-warmth lingering in the Vette’s leather seats and a huge blue-black sky curving overhead and the growl of horsepower under his right foot. And, of course, there was Oikawa - white denim short-shorts, some flowy blue-green crop top, chocolate hair in a perfect beach tousle, and a smile like a switchblade. “Worth it, on nights like tonight.” _

_ Oikawa leaned over and gripped Kuroo’s chin to kiss him, hard. “You’re such a romantic.” _

_ He reached down to crank up the radio as Kuroo hit the gas. Sand skidded away from his back tires as they pulled away from Oikawa’s house, and rock-and-roll whipped out the open top of the convertible and down the road behind them. _

_ They didn’t go far.  Just down to the beach, empty save for the smoldering remains of an earlier bonfire. Kuroo led the way down to the waterline - and startled into a jump when a hand slid into the back pocket of his skinny jeans and squeezed. _

_ He spun - and Oikawa was snickering at him. “You,” Kuroo growled, eyes dancing with a smile even so. _

_ “Me,” Oikawa agreed, sugar-sweet. _

_ Kuroo pounced on him. _

_ When they finally made it into the water, Oikawa’s tiny white shorts were crumpled in the sand, next to their shirts and Kuroo’s skinny jeans and battered old leather jacket. _

_ Bleary dawn climbed over the horizon the next morning to see Kuroo’s back against the hood of the Corvette, Oikawa’s chocolate tousle pressed into the crook of his neck, and salt and heat on their lips and skin. _

* * *

“And you both just  _ went back home _ afterwards?”

Hanamaki’s eyebrows are climbing up on his forehead. Oikawa sniffs and hoists his messenger bag further up his shoulder. “We knew all along that it was just a summer thing. Personally, I’ve moved on.”

“Really?” Matsukawa chimes in. “Cause he’s all you’ve talked about all morning.” He steps on the back of Oikawa’s flip-flop as he follows him and Hanamaki through the halls towards their homeroom, and dodges Iwaizumi’s swat at the back of his head.

“I’m catching you up on my  _ life, _ Mattsun.” Oikawa waves a blithe hand. “It’s a new school year, remember? And my father got transferred back to Tokyo! After all these years! We’re reunited at last, and all you can ask about is my summer fling…”

“Issei just wants to know if your boy could find him a friend,” Iwaizumi grumbles. His long skirt swishes down to his ankles as they walk, in contrast to the flounce of Oikawa’s mini. “More importantly, I can’t believe you convinced these dweebs to bring back those jackets we used to wear.”

“I convinced you too, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa trills. He tugs at the sleeves of the jacket in question - rosy pink leather, matching those of his three friends. “It’s the first day of school, you know~ We have to make an  _ impression.” _

“You do that all by yourself,” Iwaizumi informs him.

“Tooru just wants to attract a boy to distract him from his  _ summer lover,” _ Hanamaki announces loudly. Matsukawa snorts a laugh. “Hey, you haven’t even told us his name.”

“Don’t encourage him to go on  _ more _ about this guy,” Iwaizumi groans, at the same time that Matsukawa drawls,

“Suppose they didn’t have much time for talkin’.”

Oikawa humphs at him. “Well, I’m sure it’s more than  _ you _ got all summer-”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Hanamaki puts in, and then snickers obnoxiously-

“-and besides, we did plenty of talking!”

“Phone sex,” Matsukawa supplies helpfully.

_ “No!” _ Oikawa pushes the door of their homeroom open, and follows Iwaizumi’s nod towards a cluster of desks in the back-right corner. “We had some very nice conversations, actually. He was quite smart. Maybe almost as smart as I am.”

Iwaizumi drops down into his chair. “He must be a real brick, then.”

_ “Hey.” _

* * *

_ “So he asks me for help on our physics tests, yeah, cause I’ve been doing really well and Bokuto’s about as book-smart as a brick, and I have to tell him that the only way I could remember f=ma is cause it’s the same letters as Fullmetal Alchemist-” _

_ When Oikawa had heard Kuroo’s laugh before this, it’d been a low, lazy chuckle - as dark and sultry as the growl of the Vette. Right now, though, he was laughing for real as he told his story, and it was more like the clunk of a bulbous old pickup truck. Ugly snorts, wheezy cackles. _

_ “-and he looks at me with his big yellow owl-eyes and says ‘that’s unfortunate’,” Kuroo continued, grinning down at the near-empty beach below them. The two of them were squeezed into the lifeguard chair, Oikawa’s bare thigh pressed against Kuroo’s skinny jeans, Kuroo’s hand tangled in Oikawa’s and resting on his leg. The last lingering beachgoers were drifting out, and there was little noise besides the dull rumble of the waves. “And we’ve been friends ever since.” _

_ Kuroo looked up quickly enough to catch the fondness in Oikawa’s gaze. His own honey-brown eyes flashed with warmth in return. “Hey now, what’re you looking at me like that for?” _

_ “You have an ugly laugh,” Oikawa told him, in the most sugary voice he can muster. _

_ “You say the sweetest things to me,” Kuroo sighed, though there was a smile still lurking at the corners of his mouth. His thumb rubbed gentle, firm circles into Oikawa’s palm. _

_ “Mmhmm,” Oikawa hummed. He turned to watch the puffy clouds, drifting along high over the ocean. “It’s going to be a lovely sunset.” _

_ “And you’re going to take six hundred pictures of it,” Kuroo added. _

_ “But of course.” Oikawa patted his phone in his pocket. “Instagram  _ loves _ me.” _

_ They stayed there and watched the sunset, watched deep lavender and red soak into the rippling ocean and the tanned skin of Kuroo’s hands. Kuroo started shivering after a few slow hours, and Oikawa released his hand to drape an arm over his shoulder, letting him snuggle closer. _

_ “I still don’t know how you’re fine wearing those tiny shorts at night.” _

_ Oikawa hummed. “Well, it helps that I have a bare minimum of body fat.” _

_ When the cries of early-morning seabirds woke Oikawa the next day, Kuroo was still cuddled into his side, cheek resting against Oikawa’s shoulder. His mouth was open, and there was a small damp spot of drool on Oikawa’s t-shirt. _

_ Adorable, honestly. _

_ Oikawa only allowed himself a moment to dwell on that thought before he shook Kuroo’s shoulder to wake him. For all he was fine in shorts last night, the morning air had a nip to it that it didn’t a week ago - autumn was drawing closer. _

* * *

The ring of the last bell shakes Oikawa out of the memory. The classroom is nearly full, though there’s a few empty desks - must be spares - at the front-left corner of the room. And, Oikawa notes with pleasure, none of the other students are half as fashionable as himself and his friends in their pink jackets.

They all stad up and bow as the teacher arrives, and then Iwaizumi slides him a piece of paper with some scratchy writing on it.

_ You never did tell us his name. _

Oikawa is halfway through writing an appropriately insouciant answer when something clatters at the doorway - must be a latecomer. Oikawa barely lifts his head enough to note that the person had tripped over a desk on theri way in. It’s someone tall, and lean-

With a tangle of wild, dark hair on his head-

Oikawa’s pencil skids a long line over the paper. Iwaizumi picks it up and reads off the name, in unison with Oikawa’s gasped words as he stares at the late student who’s staring at him-

_ “Kuroo Tetsurou?” _


End file.
